Dreams and Nightmares
by I Lost The Game
Summary: Post Spiderman Three. Peter has gone home and is thinking over what has happened when he has a rather strange dream.


Dreams and Nightmares

Disclaimer-I do not own Spiderman. If I did, would I really be righting fanfiction about it?

Warning- Very slight slash

Peter Parker did not want to go home that night.

Going home meant taking off the costume.

Going home meant taking off the mask.

Going home meant facing what happened.

As long as he was Spiderman, he could pretend that this was just another fight, another victory. But the second he returned to his apartment it became real. His best friend was dead. He forced the awful door to open and collapsed on the unmade bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. Mary Jane had asked to stay with him, but he needed time alone. While hours before he felt she was the most important person in the world, now she didn't seem so important. It wasn't that he wanted to push her away, especially after everything that happened, but right now if anyone tried to comfort him by saying all the words he wasn't ready to hear, he felt that his dark side would take over again.

Dark Spiderman - now that was something he never wanted to reexperience. But what scared him even more was that he almost wished he could. When he was dark Spiderman, nothing hurt or made him feel guilty. He could channel all of his problems onto someone else and that would make things better. Sitting up and looking out over the illuminated city, he sighed, staring at the numerous busy nightly activity without taking any of it in.

He would love to be able to just treat his problems like he had as dark Spiderman, but it made him just as bad as the monsters he had taken on the responsibility to defeat

'Is the pain the only thing that keeps me from being a monster,' he thought. But he realized that wasn't true. Even the villains had their pains and heartbreaks, missions and goals. It seemed no one was immune from sadness and loss.

'Then why fight,' he thought. He knew that he didn't mean that, but at the moment there didn't seem to be a reason for anything.

"Why?" he whispered to no one in particular. Emotion welling up, he said it again, this time standing up and shouting at the top of his lungs.

"Why? Why, the second I have my best friend back, and we are getting along with him knowing everything, why did this have to happen? Does the universe hate me? The world seems to have so many _life lessons_ for me. Why can't I learn some of them without it _costing_ someone their life? What's next? What else do I have to learn? And who's next? Who's the victim of that lesson? Who else do you have to take before I've learned enough?"

He collapsed onto the bed, wanting to sob, but being too exhausted. Peter tossed around on the bed, trying to get comfortable in the tangled thin sheets. He wished he could just fall asleep, but too much was running through his mind. Hugging his pillow to himself, he finally drifted into an uneasy sleep.

_And he was back on that darned skyscraper again. The sight was ironically beautiful for the grim situation he knew he would find. The golden sunset glowed in a dark, magnificent tone. It was a glorious sight, but sad, like a Greek tragedy. In a surreal state, he retraced his steps from earlier that day, steps that he never wanted to walk through again. There was Harry, lying there again, helpless, breathing heavily. Mary Jane was mysteriously missing, but he didn't dwell on that. He knelt down beside his fallen friend. _

"_Pete," he said his voice barely above a whisper._

_Peter looked at him, but was too choked up to say anything. Harry was somehow smiling, though how he was due to the amount of pain he must be in was incomprehensible. _

_"Harry, it will be ok, I can get help, I can, I can…." Words suddenly spilled forth. But Harry just silenced him with a gentle look._

_"Don't lie, "he said, his voice still managing to have a humorous tone, "No more lies. Not between us. There's, there's something I want to tell you…" he faded away looking almost nervous of what he was about to say._

_Peter tried to encourage him,It's OK Harry. What is it? You can tell me."_

_I love you, Pete." He smiled weakly with a sad look in his eyes. _

_Peter slowly leaned in towards his dying friend, and…_

"…and there is a robber heading north on 21st street I repeat rob..." Switching off the blaring police radio, Peter jumped out bed, sweat beating down his face. A subconscious part of him was upset that it had to interrupt the dream, but he would never admit that, even to himself. For the most part he was exceedingly grateful for some normalcy.

Looking around for his costume, he realized he had slept in it. He swung from the window through the towering buildings towards the crime, the air on his face somewhat lifting his mood. This was what he was meant to do. As long as he could just save the day, swinging high above his problems, everything was O.K. The dream would just have to be dealt with later.

Hopefully, it would be much later.

'Who knows,' he thought, 'maybe I'll even manage to get a concussion and forget all about this, just like...' he stopped mid thought. He was determined not to think about Harry. Between the recent pain and the dream, it was just too much to deal with. He couldn't,  
he just couldn't.

Please Read and Review. This is my first published fic, so please, be as harsh as you need to. I want to get better. Also, should I continue this?


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